Page 436 of The Doctors Will See You Now

Her head jerked as she registered what I was asking. Panic parachuted directly into my veins.

“His fiancé… How did you… How do you know about that?”

I shrugged, doing my best to play off one of the least casual things I’d ever brought up, casually. Ironic.

“I just…I heard it. It opens some new perspectives on him for me, so…I’m curious.”

Winnie’s clever eyes were sharp on my face, but they didn’t seem knowing. Just interested.

She sighed. “She left the night before the wedding and never looked back.”

I chewed at the inside of my lip and hoped she couldn’t tell. “And so you hate her,” I surmised.

Her melodic laugh was completely unexpected, but it cut off quickly as she shook her head. “You’d think. Given the circumstances and how much I love Remy…how much he’s done for me and Lex.” Her eyes went soft, and I nodded.

I knew he’d been there when I wasn’t.

“But Remy told me some things a couple of years after.” She shook her head. “He was drunk, but he was tortured. And completely guilty.”

“Guilty?” I asked, surprised. Charlotte had always taken all the blame. She’d never said anything to plead her case or ease her mistake. She’d just taken responsibility.

Winnie nodded. “She was young, had just graduated college. And she’d gotten a job offer. A big job offer in California. Remy could have gone along with her, his job was flexible enough for it, but he told her he wouldn’t go. Basically, gave her an ultimatum. Him or the job.”

She sighed. “At twenty-two, with the way he’d given her no choice?” Her voice was soft and forgiving. “I’d have taken the job too.”

She grabbed my shoulder and shook me slightly to free me from my thoughts; I knew I had to look torturously introspective. But she didn’t mention it.

I watched woodenly as she walked away, the sound of Charlotte’s crazy laugh ringing in my ears with every step Winnie took.

Winnie was my past; Lexi was my present.

I desperately wanted Charlotte to be a part of the future.

There was nothing worse than going grocery shopping on a Sunday afternoon when everyone in the entire world was there. The aisles were packed. And the checkout lanes looked like the cashiers would never get through all of the customers without having a nervous breakdown or just up and quitting in the middle of their shift.

This was what happened when you were a procrastinator on anything and everything related to daily adult responsibilities.

I pushed my cart to the produce section, weaving in and out of the crowd until I reached the fruit. I glanced down at the items left on my list.

Milk

Bread

Eggs

Turkey

Oreos

M&Ms

Bananas

Apples

Grapes

With my eyes on the prize, the prize being an escape from the insanity that was Sunday grocery shopping, I snagged a plastic produce bag from the dispenser and started feeling up all the apples until I found a few that met my high standards—firm, colorful, and barely any brown spots.